


Heartbeat

by Elamae



Category: The A-Team (TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Prisoner of War, Vietnam War, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-22
Updated: 2014-02-22
Packaged: 2018-01-13 10:00:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1222066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elamae/pseuds/Elamae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A small snippet that takes places in Vietnam in the camp where they are being held.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heartbeat

 

 

The air was warm and damp. Its cloying pressure surrounded Murdock as he sat hunched in the corner of the bamboo hut. Every breath he took was stifling, heating his lungs and shortening his breath. The sweat that beaded on his forehead, dripped down into his eyes, tickling down his temple, but he ignored it. His hands had a better task to do than wipe mere sweat out of the way.

 

The floor of the hut was mud and stones. Damp and sticky, it pressed into his thighs and welded itself to his skin through the thin cotton of his pants. It was uncomfortable, but he wouldn't move, not for mere discomfort. Cradled in his arms was a precious bundle that was moulded to his side. Pressed along the length of his body and clamped around him like a limpet. The heat of an extra body was almost too much in the midday heat but he almost didn't notice it, such was his devotion to the man he was holding.

 

The last session with the prison interrogators had been intense and long. Face had been dragged away early that morning, barely past dawn, a flurry of angry words and grasping hands. Hours later he'd been flung back in through the door so hard he'd bounced and slid across the uneven surface, a mass of bruises, blood and sweat.

 

Murdock had scraped him up off the floor with gentle hands and whispered endearments, and when Face had pushed his way into his arms, he'd welcomed him with no hesitation. Given what he knew Face had just endured, it was remarkable he wanted any sort of contact at all, especially with a man, but it seemed Face had deemed Murdock his safe place, and he'd all but crawled into Murdock's lap when he'd realised whose hands were holding him.

 

Now, an indeterminable time later and he was still holding Face, occasionally stroking slowly up and down the warm sweat slicked skin in a soothing manner. A light kiss was dropped into Face's messy mop of hair every now and again. He wasn't sure if Face was asleep or not, but slowly the tension that had been vibrating throughout his entire body had faded. It  hadn't gone completely though and he knew any sudden noise would have Face upright and in fighting mode in a heartbeat, but for now the thin, too thin body had relaxed enough for him to rest and hopefully recoup some of the strength he'd lost that morning.

 

The  screech of a bird overhead  made Murdock glance up, and in that moment he wished he was up there too. That they were back up there in the blue sky, far away from the mud and the heat and sweat and the pain and the fear. Back where he could soar and carry his men, his friends...his brothers away to safety. How he longed for his blades, his wings. If he closed his eyes he could almost hear that comforting whomp of the rotary blades cutting through the air like a heartbeat. A mother's heartbeat. A small grin twitched his lips.

 

"I'll get you out of here, Face," he whispered so softly it was almost nothing but breath. "I promise." He squeezed his eyes shut and prayed. He'd never been much of a religious man, but if God would give him his wings and allow him to fly them out of this hellhole, he'd pray every day for the rest his life with no complaint. Lowering his head he pressed his lips against a warm temple, breathing in the hot, damp skin. "I promise."


End file.
